An Error Between Seat and Keyboard
by Kimidori-chan
Summary: After a tough break-up with his boyfriend, Arthur's friend offers him a beta testing role for a product that could help comfort him, and maybe even change his life. Bad summary is bad. AU fic. Rating will change later.
1. The Error

Arthur shot up at the sound of his phone ringing. Could it be Alfred? Oh, please, God, let it be Alfred! He grabbed the small device. His green eyes dulled again as he checked the caller ID. Kiku. He clicked the accept button, put the phone to his ear, and collapsed back onto his bed.

"Hey, Kiku," he groaned.

"Hello, Arthur-kun. I was worried about you, I haven't heard from you in days, no-one has. Are you ok?" Arthur stared at the ceiling, trying not to let the tears well up in his eyes. Kiku was one of his closest friends, but also one of Alfred's. It had been Kiku who had introduced the two. Arthur decided he should tell Kiku what had happened. "Arthur-kun? Are you still there?"

"Yes, sorry," Arthur sighed. He thought it was rather endearing that although Kiku had spent a lot of his life in Britain before returning to Japan, he still used honorific's when speaking English. "I haven't been feeling too great recently."

"Ah, are you sick, Arthur-kun? What sort of ailment are you suffering? When I lived with my Chinese cousin, he would treat us with all sorts of herbal remedies, an-"

"No, Kiku, I'm not physically ill. It's... It's Alfred."

"Oh? Alfred-kun?" Japan asked, his voice filled with concern.

"Yeah, we broke up." Kiku went quiet. Arthur blinked back his tears, knowing that Kiku had heard his voice cracking.

"Arthur-kun," Kiku gasped after a short silence. "I'm so sorry." Arthur swallowed the choking lump in his throat, and replied with a nod, even though Kiku couldn't see. "Would you like to talk about it?" Arthur shook his head.

"No, not really," Arthur replied through the tears which wouldn't stay in anymore. "I just... We'd been arguing for ages, and it just escalated... he'd had enough." He sobbed. "I just want to get over him." There was more silence on the other end of the line.

"Arthur-kun, I don't want to sound, well, cold, but given your circumstances of having no-one nearby to comfort you, I think you may be an excellent beta tester for the company's new product." Arthur frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Ah, I did not mean to offend! I just think that you would benefit." Arthur mulled over Kiku's suggestion.

"What's the product?" He asked cautiously.

"I cannot tell you until it is delivered, I am sorry," Kiku apologised. Arthur rolled his eyes. "Do you accept the beta test role?"

"Hmph, if it's going to help me get over Alfred, sure," Arthur grumbled. He could almost hear the smile crack over Kiku's face.

"Thank you, Arthur-kun! Thank you so much. Ah, I shall have to ask you some questions, do not be alarmed." Arthur cocked an eyebrow.

"Ok then..." The Brit pulled himself up from his bed and started to walk downstairs. He could really go for some tea. Earl Grey or Oolong? Oolong or Earl...

"Ok, Arthur-kun, could you describe your taste in the preferred sex?"

...Grey...

"What?" Arthur spluttered. "What the bloody hell are you selling me?"

"Please, Arthur-kun, if you do not wish to participate in the beta testing once the product arrives, it is ok." Arthur grimaced.

"Ok, but only for you, Kiku." The Japanese man repeated the question, after thanking Arthur multiples times.

"Well, the preferred sex would be male, that at least should be obvious. Now, are we talking about physical traits, or personality?"

"Both," Kiku confirmed. Arthur groaned again, and pushed down the power switch on the kettle.

"Ok. I like blond hair, not too short, but not too long either. Blue eyes... Not like the sky, more of a sea colour." He smiled to himself as he looked out of the window and saw the ocean. Oh, how he loved Britain. If Arthur was to have a perfect partner, they would be like the island nation... He continued his description as he stirred his tea. Taller than him, romantic, intimate, not too muscular, pale skinned, a slight conflict of personality, but not enough to cause major arguments (God knew he didn't ever want a repeat of the last relationship), a good cook – which he then scolded Kiku for laughing at – and most of all, loving.

Kiku gave a smile as Arthur sighed the last requirement out, before entering it into the email to his boss.

"Any special requirements? Any fetishes or-"

"Bloody hell, Kiku! What kind of question's that? Again, what have you made this time." Kiku giggled.

"All will be revealed, Arthur-kun. So? Any?"

"Of course not!" Arthur snorted indignantly. Kiku shook his head. He knew what Arthur was like (Alfred had told him things. Things he hadn't wanted to know. Ever.) so he just clicked the "All" option.

"And, any accents? Or languages?" He asked the final question.

"Not a bloody American accent. And certainly not a French accent either!" Arthur growled.

"Thank you, Arthur-kun. The production will take two to three weeks, and I shall deliver it personally to you. You can expect me in a month."

Arthur and Kiku continued conversing for a while, before Kiku said he had to talk to a colleague.

Arthur sat on the sofa, which seemed much bigger than it had a few days ago, and sipped his tea, watched the waves, and relaxed.

A month had past, and the conversation with Kiku had been forgotten by Arthur. He was sat on his laptop, starting a new novel, when his doorbell rang. He opened the door, and was pleasantly surprised to see Kiku. However, the surprised was replaced with shock when he saw the huge crate towering over the small man, and himself, covered in large travel stickers for Japan, Hong Kong, Germany, and Britain. Kiku smiled politely at Arthur, who was gaping at the crate.

"Hello, Arthur-kun. I am very pleased to see you again." He greeted his old friend.

"He- Hello, Kiku. What the hell is this?"

"It's the beta product you ordered." The conversation came flooding back to him. Arthur helped Kiku roll the crate into the house. Kiku closed the door behind him, and handed Arthur the crowbar to open the crate. Arthur looked suspiciously at the heavy tool in his hand, and then at the crate.

"What is it, Kiku?" Kiku sighed.

"As you know, Arthur-kun, I work for a robotic technology company. A while ago, we developed a realistic android, and thanks to our research, we now have the technology to incorporate personalities, and realistic, natural speech into them! We plan to market them as companion bots! I thought you'd be a brilliant person to beta test- all your friends live far away, your brothers are in other parts of the country, and since you're in a delicate place, you need a friend nearby!" Kiku's eyes were shining when he got to enthuse about his work. Arthur looked at the crate, considering what could be inside, then smiled. It would be nice to have a companion near. Although he could have got a cat or something. As Arthur started to open the crate, Kiku looked over the paperwork again.

Suddenly, his eye had caught something. He reread it and reread it. They hadn't. Any error but that. Before he could say something, the front was off the crate, and Arthur was gazing upon the figure of his android. The eyes were shut, as if sleeping, but he – no, it – was stunning. Wavy, shoulder length blond hair cascaded down at the sides of his long, elegant face, which was speckled with light stubble, and graced with a sweet smile. He was tall and slender, and dressed exquisitely. Arthur blinked in awe.

"Kiku, he's... it's wonderful. How do I turn it on?" Kiku hesitated. He was rather proud of his creation, which Arthur had confirmed was a success with his dream-like voice, but he had to tell Arthur about the error!

"You, um, kiss it, bu-" Arthur laughed.

"You kiss it? Is this a 'Special Friend' android?" Kiku blushed. He watched as Arthur leaned in towards the androids lips. He scrunched up his eyes, he couldn't watch.

Arthur pressed his lips against the cold, soft ones of the android. It felt so lifelike! He stepped back. The eyelids twitched, then opened, revealing a stunning pair of sapphire eyes. The machine was gorgeous, just the sort of person Arthur would like. A puzzled look appeared on the androids face, before a smiled broke out at the sight of Arthur. Kiku held his breath, waiting for the mistake to arise.

Arthur gazed into the eyes of the robot. They were almost alluring. Then, it's mouth opened. Arthur's breathe caught in anticipation of hearing the sweet voice of his android.

"Bonjour, mon ami."

Great. It was French.


	2. Don't leave it!

For a moment, nothing happened. Arthur stared at the French robot in horror, the French robot gazed lovingly at Arthur, and Kiku tried to discreetly leave.

"Kiku?" Arthur called calmly, with a dangerous tone in his voice.

"Yes, Arthur-kun?" Kiku asked anxiously.

"What the bloody hell is this?" He pointed at the android, who looked curiously at his finger.

"I, err-"

"I am Francis. It is a pleasure to meet you, Arthurkun," the android declared, taking Arthur's hand and kissing it. Arthur snatched his hand back with a red face.

"M- My name is Arthur. Ar-thu- Oh, why am I teaching a sodding robot my name? Kiku, why is it French?" If looks could kill, Kiku knew in his heart that he would have died a thousand excruciatingly painful deaths as Arthur whipped his head round and glowered at him.

"There's been a terrible mistake. It seems that two orders must have been mixed up."

Half way across the world, a young woman named Chelle was dialling a hotline after her newly delivered tall, dark and handsome android started talking in an impeccable British accent.

"If you give me five minutes, I'll contact my colleague and see what we can do. In the mean time, you should get to know Francis-san, and read the manual." Kiku took a rather fancy phone from his trouser pocket, said something to it, then held it up to his ear. Within seconds, he was babbling away in rapid Japanese. Arthur was rather baffled by technology, including this strange robot who was still smiling at him from his box.

"You can get out of the crate, if you'd like," Arthur grumbled. Francis' smile grew, and he stepped out of the box. Arthur could now see Francis without the confines of the wooden crate, and he had to admit, his voice really was the only problem. The deep, cerulean eyes surveyed Arthur's living room curiously. Arthur took the thin manual from the crate, and looked back at Francis, whose attention had turned to admiring Arthur, who could feel his face burning. "D-don't look at me like that!" He snapped.

He sat on the sofa, and read the front of the booklet. '_Sugiyaki Group Companion Android Beta Instructions and Operations Booklet_.' Arthur glanced up at Francis, who was still standing. "You can sit down, you know," Arthur grumbled, as he flipped the booklet open. Francis grinned, and sat down next to Arthur. Right next to him. Arthur jumped at the sudden contact, and glared at Francis. "Not that close!" He felt a pang of guilt as Francis' face fell, and he shuffled away.

"Je suis desole. I think you're beautiful." Arthur's eyes widened and he stared in shock at Francis, before quickly busying himself with the instructions.

'_The Sugiyaki Group would like to thank you for volunteering for the beta testing stage of the Companion Android product._' "And so I should bloody think so," Arthur muttered to himself. '_Product activation requires contact from the user, thus, in order to 'wake up' your product, you must kiss their lips.' _Arthur shuddered. _"Upon awakening, your product will act cordially towards you. You must spend a few days with the product so it may collect information about you, and build its personality around yours, in order to be a perfect match. After a short time, your products personality will be fully formed." _Arthur glanced at the robot next to him, who was sitting looking around the room cheerfully, before he caught Arthurs gaze. His grin broadened. 'Well, at least he won't be like this for long... If he stays.' Arthur thought.

Kiku's phone call ended and he turned to face Arthur.

"I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, Arthur-kun, but I'm unable to return the android. It can be picked up in six weeks, a-"

"Six weeks?" Arthur cried. "Why can't you take it back now?"

"Paperwork and processing," Kiku explained apologetically. "I'm afraid you'll have to get acquainted with him. Once we've returned him, we could perform the necessary adjustments and take him back, if you'd like." Arthur grunted an irritated reply. "Do you have any more questions?"

Arthur thought for a moment before a question came to him.

"What fuels him? Do I need to charge his batteries or something?"

"Did you read the manual?" Kiku asked. Arthur shrugged.

"I skimmed it..."

"I see. Well, during the day, the android will need to eat food, about as much as you. Then, when it goes into sleep mode, the generator inside can process the food into energy." Arthur raised an eyebrow, but shrugged.

"Okay then." Kiku smiled.

"Anyway, I have to leave. The only reason I could deliver this personally was because I have to attend a meeting in London, and I have to catch my train."

Arthur and Kiku said their goodbyes, and once the Japanese man had left, Arthur turned to look at Francis, who was still sitting on the sofa wearing that stupid smile.

"I suppose I should make us some dinner then?" Arthur sighed.

"Would you like some help?" Francis asked, desperate to interact with Arthur.

"No thanks, just amuse yourself for a while." Arthur went into the kitchen, followed by Francis' eyes.

Francis sat quietly, listening to the sounds coming from the kitchen; the clanging of pots, the dull thud of knives on the cutting board, the... curses that Arthur was muttering to himself? Something told Francis that he would enjoy the smell of cooking, so he inhaled deeply, and found that it was a rather putrid smell that he didn't like at all.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and a lot of cursing. A siren started to sound, and Arthur came storming into the room to open the front door. Francis looked behind him to see a lot of black smoke coming from the kitchen. The smoke quickly subsided, and the siren died. Arthur shut the door and started to put on his shoes and coat.

"Arthur? What happened to cooki-"

"Sod it! We're going to the pub!"


	3. The Pub

"And that," Arthur slurred, slamming his mug of ale onto the bar, spilling the golden liquid to exaggerate his point, "is why my brothers are a bunch of wankers!" Francis simply nodded in agreement. He wasn't entirely sure what a wanker was, although it was most likely something derogatory, but he felt that disagreeing with Arthur when he was drinking was a bad idea. He took a sip of the red liquid that was apparently called wine which Arthur had ordered for him. They were both still on their first glass.

Upon their arrival at the pub, Arthur had got them both drinks, and a dinner of steak pie, which Francis found to be passable.

Arthur slumped onto the bar. Francis watched the hunched figure anxiously.

"Arthur?" He murmured. He liked Arthur's name; it was a lovely name, and it rolled off his synthetic tongue nicely. "Are you okay?" Arthur's head moved against the bar in a strange sort of nod, and he pushed himself up.

"I'm fine." The door of the bar opened, then closed as more patrons came in. "I just m-"

"Well, look who it is!" A rough, gravelly, accented voice called out. Arthurs head hit the bar as he yelled out several strong obscenities. Francis looked round to see who had spoken, and saw two men, one with a sharp grin, and the other looking rather cheerful, as if not even on this planet. The grinning man caught Francis' gaze, and his red eyes glinted. He sat next to Arthur, and the cheerful man sat next to him. Arthurs head hadn't moved from the table.

"Yo, bartender, a pint of your best German beer!" The red eyed man yelled. The bartender, a rather burly man, quickly filled a pint glass from the tap, and put it in front of the man. Was he intimidated by the silver haired German man?

"Cava, please," the other man chirped.

"A glass, or do you two have a night planned?" The bartender asked grimly. The cheerful smile stretched into an ominous grin.

"We won't be leaving for a while." The bartender left, and quickly returned with a carafe of red, sparkling wine and a glass.

"So, Artie, what brings you here?" The German asked, taking a long swig from his mug. Arthur's head rolled over to glare up at him.

"It's Arthur, kraut." The German's grin soured and his lips curled down.

"Watch your mouth, Captain America isn't here to save you anymore," he growled. His smile returned when he saw the beginning of tears in Arthur's eyes.

"Come on, Francis, let's go," he grumbled. He sat up, but before he could stand, the albino's thin, but strong hand took his wrist.

"Artie, where are your manners? Who's your friend?" Arthur glanced at Francis.

"This is Francis. Francis, these are two idiot's who I don't like." Francis smiled at the two men.

"It's nice to meet you," he said. They both laughed, and the German held his hand out.

"I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt, Arthur's awesome Prussian friend." Francis looked at his hand, and whispered quietly and discreetly into Arthur's ear.

"Do I shake it?" Arthur nodded before taking another large gulp of ale. Francis shook hands with Gilbert.

"I'm Antonio," the other man smiled with a small wave. Half of the large jug of wine was gone.

"So, Arthur, how did you two meet?" Gilbert asked. Arthur's thick brows furrowed, unsure of how to answer.

"Kiku introduced us," he answered unsteadily. He didn't like the wolfish grin on Gilberts face. He didn't really like anything about Gilbert's face. Or Gilbert as a matter of fact.

"Really? Hmm." Gilbert examined Francis for a moment. "So, blond, blue eyes, tall... Is this Kiku guy your matchmaker or something, Artie? Cause this is the seco-"

"Shut your fucking mouth, Gilbert, before I shut it for you!" Arthur yelled.

"Gil, don't be mean to him," Antonio purred. Gilbert nodded. He'd done enough damage for now.

Arthur quickly downed the remainder of his drink, and paid for his and Francis' order. Francis drank the rest of the wine, which he was rather fond of. Arthur rose to his feet.

"Francis, let's get home." Francis nodded, and stood up.

"Whoa, he's living with you?" Gilbert asked incredulously. Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat, and nodded.

"Yeah, his apartment is having repairs done." And with that, the duo left.

"You have interesting friends, Arthur." Francis announced once they had reached Arthur's small home. The walk home had been a feat, with Francis having to help Arthur as he stumbled around and spoke to a flying mint bunny, and someone called Marigold, neither of whom Francis could see.

"They're not my friends!" Arthur cried. Francis didn't reply. "I'm going to bed." He announced, and he started to stumble towards the stairs.

"Arthur?" Francis called. "Where do I sleep?" Arthur paused for a moment.

"Bollocks! I forgot to set up the guest room." His shimmering eyes met Francis', and it was quite a while before he realised he was staring at the man... Robot. "Ugh, you can sleep with me for tonight." Francis smiled, and helped Arthur upstairs. "First on the right," the drunken man directed. Francis led him through the door. Arthur flopped down to sit on the bed, and started to unbutton his shirt. Francis undid his own shirt, and slid it off, before looking to Arthur, who was struggling with his buttons.

He kneeled in front of him.  
>"Would you like some help?" He asked. Arthur frowned, but nodded. Francis' long, slim fingers made quick work of the buttons, and he slid the garment from Arthur's shoulders, leaning closer in order to do so. He heard Arthur give a shuddering sigh. Francis backed away, and noticed a red flush on Arthur's face. "Shall I help with your trousers to-"<p>

"No!" Arthur cried. "I mean, I can do it myself." Francis removed his own while Arthur fumbled drunkenly with his own, eventually succeeding. They both crawled into bed.

"You stay on that side, and I'll stay on this one. Okay?" Arthur ordered rather than asked. Francis nodded, and they both quickly fell asleep.

"Well," Gilbert mused. "Artie's certainly lowered his standards if he's after a Frenchie." Antonio chuckled.

"No, it's not like that. Not yet." Gilbert shot his best friend a questioning look, which was returned with a smile which reached to his glazed emerald eyes. "Something special is happening there. Trust me, I'm Spanish. "


	4. New Day

Arthur woke up with no memory of the night before, an awful taste in his mouth, a tingle in his head that he knew from experience would explode upon the first movement his head made, and something soft, warm, and very pleasant. Getting up would be a bad idea, and so was opening his eyes, considering the light streaming in through the window, and so he snuggled closer to whatever was keeping him warm.

Something was on top of him, causing a comfortable pressure that convinced Arthur even more that staying in bed was a good idea. He sighed contently. That had been the best night sleep he'd had in a long time, although the alcohol he could vaguely recall consuming the night before probably played some part in that. He could feel the tingle in his head intensify, and he decided that some more sleep was in order.

The warmth shifted. Arthur froze. What had he been using to keep cosy? He inched his eyes open, and saw a bleary shape. He blinked a few times to clear his vision of sleep. Half-lidded, deep blue eyes smiled at him.

"Bonjour, Arthur."

"Francis? What are y- ARGH!" When Arthur sat up in shock (which also knocked Francis arm from him), the tingling in his head immediately erupted into the inevitable, awful headache that haunts a person after a night of heavy drinking. Or a pint of ale, in Arthur's unfortunate case…

Arthur lay back down on the bed with his eyes closed tightly. "Francis," he groaned. "Why were we in bed together?"

"You said we should sleep together," Francis yawned. Arthur felt the bed shift, and he squinted his eyes so he could see what was going on. Francis had sat up, and was stretching his arms. Arthur had a brilliant view of the muscular chest and arms, which made him wonder.

"Sleep together?" He asked groggily. Francis looked down at him with a smile, and nodded. Arthur raised an eyebrow, and peeked under the covers. Well. It would appear that both of them were topless. Arthur gulped, and then winced; his throat was so dry.

He looked under the covers again, and was relieved to see that he had boxers on. He rested his head on the pillow, and closed his eyes. He barely noticed Francis leaving the room. In fact, he was almost drifting off to sleep again when a delicious aroma permeated his nose. He sat up gingerly to see Francis, wearing nothing but the white trousers he had worn the night before, carrying a tray. Upon the tray was an omelette, some cutlery, a glass of water and a cup of tea. Arthur gave him a curious look.

"Breakfast," Francis explained. His hair was tied back with a red ribbon, with a few golden strands left loose at the sides of his face. "If you are ill, you should probably eat. I'm afraid this was all I could make with what you had." Arthur tentatively sat up, and Francis set the tray on his lap. The food smelled mouth-wateringly good. Before he could reach for his cutlery, Francis slipped a small white tablet into his hand.

"I found these in one of the kitchen cupboards; it will help your head." Arthur looked at the pill, and then at Francis.

"Th-thanks," he said gratefully, and popped the bitter pill into his mouth before washing it away with the water. "What about your breakfast?" Arthur asked.

"I ate already," Francis smiled. "I thought that since you were British, you wouldn't like an omelette that was only half cooked." Arthur smirked.

"You'd be right." He cut a bit of the omelette, and put it in his mouth.

It almost melted the second it touched his tongue. He almost didn't want to swallow it, until he remembered that there was a whole plate of the heavenly dish right in front of him.

Francis watched in silent amusement as Arthur wolfed down his breakfast as if he hadn't eaten in days. Although, considering the state the kitchen had been in after Arthur's attempt to cook last night, that was entirely plausible.

The omelette soon disappeared. "Wow. You really are French, aren't you?" Arthur smiled. Francis liked that smile; maybe he should cook more often. Arthur lifted the teacup to his lips, and sipped the searing hot liquid with a contented hum. "How did you know how I like my tea?" He wondered aloud.

"I guessed. No sugar and a splash of milk seemed very you." Arthur nodded and drank some more of his tea, already feeling better. Better enough to notice that Francis was watching him intently. "Why are you staring?" He frowned. Francis made no attempt to hide that he was looking at him, and didn't even stop.

"Because I like you," he said in a matter-of-fact way. "And you're quite nice to look at." Arthur's face went a light shade of pink. That was rather cute too…

"Don't say silly things," Arthur scolded. Francis didn't reply, and continued to watch as Arthur finished his tea, and set his tray to the side.

Francis picked up his shirt from the floor, and slid his arms into the sleeves. He pulled the ribbon from his hair, and shook his head. He looked behind him to see Arthur quickly averting his eyes, and blushing again. Francis grinned.

"Why am I not allowed to look at you if you can look at me?" He asked, holding back a chuckle when Arthur's blush intensified.

"I- It's not like that! I wasn't looking at you that way! I was just… Is that the only clothes you have?"

Francis looked down at his shirt and trousers, and nodded. "Well, we'll have to get you some new clothes. We can do that today."

Francis waited in the living room while Arthur had a shower. He'd been told he could watch television while he waited, but he didn't know what that was, so that suggestion was out the window. Suddenly, there was a rattling noise coming from the door, and some pieces of paper fell through a hole. Francis approached them cautiously, and picked them up. 'Arthur Kirkland', 'Mr A Kirkland', 'To the Occupant'. Francis realised that Kirkland must be Arthur's surname, and then wondered whether or not he had a surname. He placed the letters on a small table before picking up one of the slips of paper that had come in the package containing him.

'Unit No. U6K78A6FB Unit Name. Francis Bonnefoy'

Francis Bonnefoy? It sounded rather nice. He hoped Arthur would like it. He quite liked Arthur's name. Arthur Kirkland. It sounded like a proud name. Francis sat back down on the sofa, and looked around the room until something caught his eye. He stood, and went to the bookcase.

He ran a slender finger down the spine of one of the books, and then along a few others. He pulled one out and took it to the sofa to begin reading.

Arthur came down the stairs around ten minutes later, fully dressed and ready to go.

"Hey, what are you reading?" He asked. Francis glanced up at him.

"Your book." He went back to reading. Arthur looked at him in confusion.

"What do you mean?" Francis didn't look up this time; he was engrossed in the novel

"The book that has your name on it. Some things came through the door, and they said 'Arthur Kirkland', and this book says 'Arthur Kirkland' on the front, so it must be your book." He suddenly looked up. "Did you write this?" He asked, with wonder in his voice. Arthur bit his lower lip nervously, but nodded. Francis beamed at him.

"I love it! Did you write the others with your name on them?" Arthur nodded again. "I want to read all of them!" Arthur smiled shyly.

"They aren't that good, really," he mumbled. Francis shook his head.

"It's wonderful."

Arthur lived near the shore of a coastal town, and his home was just a 15 minute walk to the town centre. Francis spent the journey looking in wonder at the houses and buildings, and waving cheerfully at everyone they saw, which lead to lots of giggle teenage girls and women, awkward waves from men, and a very embarrassed Arthur, who had quickly given up on telling Francis not to greet everyone so enthusiastically.

They soon arrived at the high street, and Arthur led Francis into a large clothing store. They were approaching the escalator which lead to the men's clothing department, when Francis paused, and looked at the moving staircase suspiciously.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked. Francis kept staring at the escalator.

"How does that work? Do I keep walking up it like a normal staircase?" Arthur shook his head in amusement.

"No. You just walk onto it, and stay still. It takes you to the top. Watch." Arthur stepped onto the escalator, and Francis was in awe as it carried him to the next level. Eagerly, he hopped onto the escalator, and looked over his shoulder to see the woman's shoes department disappear.

Suddenly, he stumbled off the escalator, and Arthur tutted. "You have to pay attention, idiot."

After picking out a reasonable assortment of clothes, Arthur found himself waiting outside a changing room so Francis could try on some of them on before buying them. The cubicle lock clicked open, and Arthur looked up to see Francis in a pair of light blue jeans, and-

"Bloody hell! You have to fasten the shirt before you come out, you stupid git!" Arthur scolded in a hushed tone. He quickly got to his feet and started to button up the dark red shirt.

"Excuse me, sirs?" Arthur turned round to see a sales assistant looking at them worriedly. "Is everything alright?"

"Um, yes," Arthur assured her. "My friend forgot to button his shirt, just a slight wardrobe malfunction." She nodded at him, giving Francis an admiring look.

"It looks very nice on you sir," she complemented before returning to her post. Arthur watched her leave with a frown which he couldn't explain.

Once the clothes were paid for, they started to walk home, carrying a large bag each. Francis stopped outside the supermarket, and looked at the large posters declaring loudly that all herbs were half price, and that there was 25% off fruit and vegetables.

"Arthur?" He called. Arthur turned to look at him. "I'm sorry I embarrassed you in the clothes shop. Could we buy some things so I can make you dinner" Arthur considered it, and supposed that whatever Francis made would be better than any attempt by himself.

"Alright then," he smiled.

They sat at the small dining table that night to a delicious meal of ratatouille niçoise. While Arthur cleaned the dishes, he finally plucked up the courage to ask Francis something that had been bothering him all day.

"Francis? You knew you should have fastened your shirt earlier." Francis looked at him curiously.

"And?" He asked. Arthur scowled at him.

"Why did you do it?" Francis shrugged.

"You're cute when you blush." Despite himself, Arthur could feel said blush arising on his face, making Francis smile fondly.

"So, why did you cook me dinner?" Francis smile grew to a grin. He stood in front of Arthur, so close that the smaller man could feel the heat radiating from the mechanics in the androids body. Francis placed a hand on Arthurs cheek, caressing it.

"Because, mon cher," he breathed. "You are beautiful when you smile."


	5. BTT

Despite what he said, Arthur was starting to enjoy having Francis around. The android had only been living with Arthur for five days, but he was settling in nicely, and the cooking was a plus. They were sat on the sofa, watching TV while Arthur explained the rules of 'Deal or No Deal' when there was a knock at the door. There was an excited gleam in Francis's eyes.

"Can I answer the door?" He pleaded. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"On you go then."

Before he had the words out, Francis had leapt up, and dashed to the door, throwing it open.

"Bonjour," he greeted the guests. He smiled at Arthur.

"It's for you," he announced.

"Of course it's for me, you stupid frog," Arthur grumbled, wondering why he let Francis answer the door, since he would just have to get up anyway. He reached the door and glowered at the two men standing there. "What do you two want?" He growled.

"No need to be a dick," Gilbert spat back, gaining him a nudge from Antonio.

"Hi, Arthur," the Spanish man chirped. There was no response. "Gilbert came here to apologise for his atrocious behaviour the other day. There was an argument at home, and he was in a pretty bad mood, but that was no excuse for what he said. Isn't that right, Gilbert?" Gilbert stared at his feet, pouting, with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his red hoodie.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Y'know, I'm not busy tonight, would you and your, er, _friend_ like to come out tonight with Antonio and I?" He finally looked up at Arthur, and Francis looked deeply into the crimson eyes.

"Thank you, Gilbert, but we graciously refu-"

"We'd love to!" Francis interrupted Arthur gleefully. Gilbert flashed a lopsided grin while Arthur glared at Francis.

"Awesome," the albino declared. "We'll meet you at the bar at 8." And with that, he and Antonio left, and Arthur shut the door with a groan.

"You're a real git, you know," he grumbled. Francis cocked his head to the side.

"Is that a good thing?"

"I give up."

Arthur and Francis met Gilbert and Antonio on the way to the bar, so they decided to walk there together. When they reached it, Francis looked at the sign above the door.

"What does that say, Arthur?" he asked. Arthur took a quick glance at the sign.

"Well, it's not in English, so I don't know, and it clearly isn't in French, Spanish or German, so that means none of us know."

"Actually, I speak Italian too," Antonio piped up.

"Yeah, and I know some Hungarian," Gilbert added.

"So is the sign in Italian or Hungarian?" Arthur asked them. They both shook their heads, prompting Arthur to roll his eyes, and lead the way into the pub.

Tom stood behind the bar, enjoying the silence. The small pub was often overlooked by the locals who opted for the flashy nightclub in the town centre. The only regulars were some of the older men in the area, and the quiet, blonde man with bushy eyebrows who would occasionally stop by for a pint, which never went too well. And then, there were those two. From the moment that the German and Spaniard set foot in the bar, Tom knew they were trouble. On his own, the Spaniard was pleasant enough, but when paired with the obnoxious German and a few drinks, the two were a force to be reckoned with. Tom shuddered at the thought of the carnage that had happened just the other week. And still, the pub landlord wouldn't ban them, because they took in more money from those two in one night than from any other customer over a 6 month period.

The door was pushed open, and the man with the large eyebrows stepped in with his new French friend. Tom nodded to them as a greeting, but then he caught sight of their companions, and his hopes of a quiet night were shattered. The Spaniard, Frenchman and the man with the eyebrows sat at a table near the back, while the German went up to the bar wearing a sharp grin.

"Hey, here's a joke for ya!" He announced to Tom. "An awesome Prussian, a Spaniard, a Frenchman and an Englishman walk into a bar! The Prussian goes to the bartender and says, 'Hey, get me a beer, a bottle of red, a pint of lager and a huge fucking jug of your finest sangria, and put it on a tab, 'cause were making a night of it!'" Tom's face paled at the thought of a whole night of the 'Prussian' and his friend, and just prayed that the other two weren't influenced by those two. He put the drinks on a tray and pushed it to Gilbert, who took it to their table.

Francis wasn't sure if his systems could process the vast quantities of alcohol, but they seemed to be managing, since after a several bottles of wine, which he was growing very fond of by now, he still felt completely fine, whereas Arthur was slumped over the table, out cold, Antonio had quietened down quite a bit, and anything he did say was in broken English, and Gilbert was slurring out tales of how amazingly awesome he was. Francis sat and listened; he quite liked Gilbert and Antonio.

The conversation quickly turned to Francis. "Come on," Gilbert urged. "What's the truth about you and Arthur?" Francis tilted his head to the side, much in the manner of a dog who is being asked a question.

"What do you mean?" Gilbert opened his mouth to ask a crude question, but was quickly interrupted by Antonio.

"Well, Arthur tends to keep quiet about things that we like to know about. We didn't know about his last amante for about six weeks!"

"Oh, Arthur isn't my lover," Francis explained. Antonio was sure he caught a glint of sadness in Francis' eye.

"Would you like him to be?" He asked him. Francis considered this for a moment. Arthur didn't like Francis the way Francis liked Arthur, but Francis was built to change to Arthur's liking. Surely this could work out?

"Yes," Francis smiled, looking fondly at the sleeping Brit. "I want to be his boyfriend." Antonio took Francis' hand with a cheerful smile.

"Well, mi amigo, I am from the country of passion, and you are from the country of love. Arthur will be yours in a month." He guaranteed. Gilbert watched the exchange, and felt a sense of déjà vu.

"Hey, Toni, remember how you got together with your Italian?" Antonio grinned at Gilbert.

"Of course, you helped me. Although how you're a master of love, I'll never know." Gilbert raised his eyebrows once.

"Yeah, although my awesomeness clearly rubbed off on you, since you're the one helping someone out." Gilbert sat quietly for a moment while a rare, thoughtful look flashed across his face. It quickly disappeared, and was replaced with a wild grin.

"We should start a group or something!" He yelled, pounding his fist on the table, causing Arthur to grumble in his deep sleep.

"Hmm? What do you mean, amigo?" Antonio asked.

"Well, I'm awesome in every way, you're awesome, Toni, and I'm sure Francis is pretty awesome too! He's just shy or something. " Francis nodded, going along with Gilberts assumptions, instead of saying he didn't have a fully developed personality. "Right! We should make a club, dedicated to how awesome we all are!" Antonio smiled.

"Sure, but what should we call it?" Gilbert's thoughtful face came back, momentarily.

"I've got it!" he cried. The other two leaned in closer. "Right, there's three of us, right? And we're 'inappropriate', right?" He said, doing a poor impression of what Francis assumed was Arthur's voice.

"I don't know if Francis is as bad as us two, Gil," Antonio voiced, gaining a patronising look from Gilbert.

"He's French." Antonio considered this, and nodded in agreement.

"So, what's the name?" Gilbert smirked, and leaned back in his seat, with his arms folded.

"We, my friends, are the Bad Touch Trio." He picked up his mug of beer and held it out. "Are you with me?" Antonio and Francis followed suit, and clanged their glasses together, before downing what was left of their respective drinks.

Tom cringed from behind the bar.

'Oh god,' he thought. 'There are three of them now.'

He knocked on the door that lead to the landlords office, and opened it. The blonde, lavender eyed man behind the desk looked at him with a curious smile.

"I'm sorry," Tom sighed. "But I'm going to have to quit, Mr Väinämöinen"

Francis had helped Arthur home again, and took him upstairs. He lay him on his bed, before turning to leave, and go to bed himself.

"Francis," Arthur croaked. Francis looked over his shoulder, to see the drunken man beckoning him clumsily. He sat on the edge of Arthur's bed. Arthur's jade eyes gazed into Francis cerulean light receptors. "I like you, Francis. I really like you," he mumbled. Francis' eyes widened. "In a completely platatonically way!" Arthur was slurring his words again. Francis leaned down, and softly pressed his lips to Arthur's forehead.

"I like you too."


	6. Arthur's Muse

The next morning, Francis decided not to wake Arthur. He sat at the dining table, with a plate of freshly made pancakes and a cup of that 'Earl Grey' stuff that Arthur was so fond of, and he made sure that the kettle was boiled and more pancakes were being prepared for Arthur once he was ready. He let his memory trail over last night. He thought over Antonio's promise to him, and smiled; he hoped that the rest of the Bad Touch Trio could help him with Arthur.

Said Brit descended the stairs at around 11 o clock in his pyjamas, with messy hair and sleep filled eyes, which brightened up at the sight of another amazing breakfast, courtesy of Francis. He buttered his still warm pancakes, and spread jam over the top, biting into it, and savouring the fluffy texture with a face that made Francis heart – or whatever kept him running – swell up.

"What are we doing today, Arthur." 'The same thing we do every night, Francis,' Arthur thought to himself. 'Try to take over the world!' Arthur chuckled to himself, causing Francis to give him a confused look. He cleared his throat, wiping the childhood nostalgia from his mind.

"Well, I have to work on my newest novel, before the publisher starts complaining, so, um, what would you like to do?" Francis thought for a moment, before coming to a decision.

"Can I read your books?" He smiled.

"Of course."

Francis spent the rest of the morning and afternoon reading, while Arthur sat at his desk in front of the window, staring out at the ocean. All was silent in the house, except for the turning of delicate pages, and the occasional clacking noises, which signalled a burst of activity from Arthur's keyboard when inspiration struck him.

Francis was being drawn into the book he held in his hands. It was titled, 'To the Sunshine in my Heart,' and it told the story of a young woman who fell in love with a man who arrived on a boat with the rising sun. It wasn't just the story that pulled Francis in; the descriptions of everything was so vivid. He could almost smell the salty sea air, see Alice's long, auburn hair, taste the sweetness of their first kiss…

He tore his eyes from the book for the first time since he had picked it up several hours ago, and laid his gaze upon Arthur. The man was looking out of the window again, as if he wasn't even on this earth. Francis' eyes traced his delicate profile, his messy, ruffled, dirty blond hair, his thick brows, and those beautiful, shining green eyes, which stared off to space with not a care in the world. How would it be to kiss him properly? To feel those soft, pink lips on his? Arthur's eyes shifted, and locked with Francis'.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked. Francis shook his head.

"Nothing. You just write so beautifully, but it isn't that surprising." Arthur's brows furrowed in confusion, but he quickly straightened them out when he saw Francis smiling at them. Alfred used to tease him about his eyebrows; little did he know that Francis found them endearing.

"Why isn't it surprising?"

"Because, you're perfect in every other way." Arthur scoffed.

"Didn't I tell you not to say stupid things?" Francis shrugged.

"I'm not being stupid," he smiled. There was that sweet blush that he loved so much. Francis put the book on the arm of the recliner he'd been sitting on, and stood up. "I'm going to make dinner."

Arthur nodded. Once Francis was in the kitchen, he swallowed the lump in his throat. Did Francis really feel that way about him? 'Of course he does,' a small voice cried. 'He was made to love you, you stupid git!' Arthur looked behind him, to make sure Francis was busy, and he unlocked the drawer in his desk. He quietly opened it, and took out a stuffed, green, winged rabbit toy. He'd had the Flying Mint Bunny for as long as he could remember, and although he knew it was childish, he liked to keep it around for comfort.

He couldn't possibly like Francis like that, he thought. It was silly. Francis was a robot, and to love a robot was completely irrational. He stroked the Flying Mint Bunny as he read over what he had written with a sigh. Everything he had tried writing in the past couple of months had been dreadful, and so far from his normal standards.

Of course it was awful; Alfred had been his muse.

During his reading and rereading of the prologue, there were a few short raps on the door, followed by the doorbell being rang. Arthur closed the bunny away in her drawer, and answered the door.

"Oh, hello Antonio," Arthur exclaimed, surprised by the olive skinned man's appearance. "What can I do for you?"

"Hey, amigo! I was just making sure you were okay after last night," Antonio laughed. Arthur grimaced at him.

"Yes, I've recovered rather well, thank you very much," he replied shortly. "Will that be all?" Antonio shook his head.

"I was wondering if I co-" He cut his question short, and his nose began to twitch a little. "Arthur! Have you learned to cook like a normal person?" He cheered, causing Arthur to look rather affronted.

"That's not me, you git! It's Francis." Antonio's eyes were on the kitchen door.

"Francis? Is he good?" Arthur shrugged.

"He's French, remember?" Antonio nodded fervently.

"Um, could I come in and talk to him please?" Arthur sighed, but nodded and stepped aside to let Antonio in.

Arthur opened the kitchen door.

"Francis, you have a guest," he called. Francis looked up from the bubbling pot, and grinned when he saw Antonio.

"Hi, Toni!"

"Hey, Francis!" Antonio greeted him. "What're ya cooking?" He asked.

"Lasagne," he smiled. Antonio's face lit up.

"Really? Hey, how did you make that sauce?" Francis looked back to the pot he was stirring.

"Well, I boiled some tomatoes, and-"

"W-wait, you used fresh tomatoes?" Antonio asked him. Francis nodded.

"What else would I use?"

"What else is in it, then?"

"Some basil, rosemary, a bay leaf, and a splash of wine." Antonio smiled as he watches the Frenchman scoop up a little bit of the sauce on the wooden spoon, and licked some off before sprinkling a little salt into the pot and stirring some more. He was sure he had seen Arthur give a slight shiver when Francis' tongue darted out to taste the sauce.

"Arthur," Antonio started in a hushed voice. "Does Francis have a job?"

"No, he just helps around the house and cooks…" Arthur replied. "Why?"

"You'll see," Antonio smiled. "Francis?" He called. "Do you like cooking?" Francis nodded.

"It's one of my favourite things to do." He exclaimed.

"Well, what if you could cook as a job?" Francis looked up from the pot, looking a little confused.

"A job?"

"Si," Antonio answered. "I have a restaurant. I have two head chefs, but they both specialise in Italian cuisine. Tell me, can you make paella?" Francis shrugged.

"I've never tried to make it, but I could try" Antonio grinned at him.

"Excellent. Well, how would you like to come round to the restaurant tomorrow? If I think you're up to scratch, you can come and work for me. Ok?"

"Sure," Francis smiled.

"Ok!" Antonio cried, excited at the prospect of having a chef who could cook more than pizza, pasta and various pasta sauces. "I'll come round at 12 tomorrow to take you to the restaurant. Enjoy your lasagne!"

Arthur saw Antonio out, then went back into the kitchen. Francis had started making the white sauce.

"Arthur?" Francis murmered.

"Yes, Francis?"

"What's a job?"


	7. His Little Lovi

"I'm glad you accepted my offer, Francis," Antonio smiled as he walked to the restaurant with Francis.

"It sounds like fun," Francis mused. Antonio nodded.

"So, any progress with Arthur?" He asked.

"No," Francis sighed. "I tried complementing him the other day, but he said I was being silly. Does Arthur not like me?" Antonio's smile grew wider.

"'Being silly', huh? Amigo, I think he might just like you." Francis looked at him in surprise.

"You think so?" Antonio winked at him.

"I know so. Arthur doesn't take well to complements and flirting, and he's pretty oblivious sometimes. He's a bit like my Lovi in that respect, just watch and learn today."

Antonio's restaurant wasn't too big, but most of the tables were filled for lunch already. Antonio led him into the kitchen, where the scent of tomatoes, freshly baked bread, and various herbs was incredibly strong. There were cooks rushing around, preparing various dishes. A waitress hurried in and fondly greeted Antonio, and gave Francis an amorous glance and a wink before returning to the dining area with two large plates of pasta salad.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash at the back of the kitchen, followed by a long wail.

"Argh! You stupid bastard, I'm sick of you!"

"B-but… Fratello, I-"

"Shut the fuck up, you useless bastard! Damnit, why can't I just work with Antonio instea-" Francis didn't hear the rest of the one sided conversation, because of a strange squeal that seemed to come from Antonio.

"Come on, Francis," Antonio giggled, with sparkling eyes.

Antonio rushed to the source of the yelling, which appeared to be an angry looking man with chestnut hair, and a strange, gravity defying curl in his hair. On the floor was another man who looked quite similar to the person shouting, but with a softer face – which was getting ready to cry – and auburn hair. There was a massive, upturned pot beside him, and the floor surrounding him was covered in a red sauce, which the man was also heavily splattered with.

"Lovino!" Antonio cried. "You said you wanted to work with me!" Antonio hugged the shouting man from behind, causing him to splutter.

"G-get off me, you bastard!" Lovino yelled. Antonio kissed his ear, gaining another string of profanities before releasing him. Lovino immediately rushed away from Antonio, and slipped on the spilt sauce, falling into it. Antonio laughed, and helped up Lovino and the other man.

"Now, what happened?" Antonio asked kindly.

"Ve, Mr Carriedo, I was carrying the saucepan to the cooks, but Lovino knocked against me, a-"

"Don't lie, bastard!" Lovino barked at who was assumed to be his brother, causing him to burst into tears.

"Hey, hey, it doesn't matter," Antonio soothed the crying man. "We'll get this cleaned up, and get back to cooking, okay?" The crying man smiled and nodded, while his brother rolled his eyes. It was then that they noticed Francis.

"Who's that?" Lovino demanded, his olive cheeks gaining a flush of pink.

"This is Francis, he might be joining us here," Antonio grinned. Lovino tutted.

"Another cook?"

"Nope, a chef, to join you and Feli!" Lovino wrinkled his nose, but Antonio didn't notice.

"Francis, this is Feliciano Vargas," Antonio introduced the now very cheerful auburn haired man. "And this is his older brother, my little Lovin-Oof!" Lovino jabbed his elbow into Antonio's side, causing him to double over.

"Don't call me that, bastard!" Lovino growled. Antonio chuckled breathlessly.

"Bu-but Lovi, that's what you are," he mewled. Lovino's blush intensified.

"St-stupid…"

After the sauce was all cleaned up, Antonio gave Lovino a quick peck on the cheek before leading Francis off to another part of the kitchen.

"So, you want me to make paella?" Francis asked.

"Si," Antonio smiled. "The restaurant is supposed to specialise in Spanish and Italian food, but our chefs and cooks can only make Italian food. Up until now, I've been cooking too, and teaching Lovi how to cook Spanish dishes, but it's so hard to run the restaurant at the same time. So, if your cooking is up to scratch, you can take over my place in the kitchen!" Antonio helped Francis get all the necessary ingredients, and then watched as his apprentice began to prepare them for the dish.

"Antonio, I thought you said you and Lovino were dating?" Francis wondered, a little confused about the situation. Antonio nodded his head enthusiastically.

"Si, we are."

"But, he doesn't seem to like you an awful lot." Francis statement was answered with a chuckle and a shrug from the Spaniard.

"That is just Lovi." He explained. "You see how he shouted at his brother?" Francis nodded. "He doesn't hate Feli, he just doesn't want to see him messing up. And in regards to me, well, we've been living together for over a year now, he just gets embarrassed when it comes to affection."

Francis thought this over while he chopped up the tomatoes.

"My Lovi isn't too different to Arthur, is he?" Antonio remarked, as if he was reading Francis' mind. Francis shook his head with a slight smile. Was that why Arthur said he was being silly? Because he liked him? "Now, amigo, if you want our grumpy, reclusive Englishman, here's what you have to do…"

As Antonio imparted his words of wisdom, Francis drank in the information while he created one of the best paella's that Antonio had ever tasted; Francis was very thankful for his powerful processor.

Arthur hated meetings with his publisher. He had just barely met the deadline for the first few chapters of his latest novel, and had been staying up late to finish it. When he got back to the house, the door was unlocked, but all the lights were on. He flicked the light switch and flooded the living room with light. There was a soft glow coming from the kitchen, along with a mouth-watering smell.

"Francis?" He called. No answer. He cautiously entered the kitchen.

The source of the glow seemed to be from the tea lights on the small dining table, and the smell would have been the massive roast dinner split between the two plates. Francis was sat in one of the two chairs, wearing a deep green silk shirt, and black trousers. His hair was tied back, as he tied it whenever he was cooking.

"Wh-what's this?" Arthur asked him, a little overwhelmed.

"It is the English tradition of roast beef, with the French tradition of romance," Francis smiled. Arthur felt his cheeks flush pink.

"You're not even French, you were made in Japan," he retorted, trying not to let his embarrassment show, and not doing a good job of it.

"Oui, but I didn't think you would appreciate beef nigiri," Francis smirked. Arthur had no more arguments. "So, sit and enjoy, mon cher."

Arthur sat at the table and cut a bit of his food, then tasted it. He had always said that his mother was the best cook he had ever met, but now he had to take that back. Francis should have 10 michelin stars, as far as Arthur was concerned. After they had finished, Francis refused all of Arthurs offers to help wash the dishes.

"Francis? Why did you do this tonight?" Arthur asked. He took a sip of the wine in his glass that Francis had pushed onto him.

"Do what?"

"Don't play dumb!" Arthur frowned. "Why did you make an amazing dinner, with candles and the like?" Francis turned to look at Arthur. He walked over to his chair, took his hand, and pulled him to his feet. Arthur trembled a little as Francis' long fingers curled round his waist. He looked up, and his large, green eyes met sincere, blue ones. A small smile graced Francis' face.

"Because, Arthur," he said softly. "You deserve things like this every day." Arthur froze when Francis' lips pressed against his forehead.

"Uh… I, um…" Arthur tripped over his words as his face grew redder. "I'm pretty tired, I'll see you in the morning." He pulled away from Francis, and started to leave the kitchen quickly, pausing at the door. "Thanks for dinner, Francis." He left the kitchen and dashed up the staircase.

Francis smiled. He had finally figured out Arthur.


	8. From the North

As fun as it was, working with his best friend, the restaurant business was hectic, and tiring, and so Francis was glad for this Saturday off. He was curled up reading on the sofa, while Arthur grumbled something about the hosts of the television programme he was watching, when suddenly, their quiet afternoon in was interrupted by a sharp rap at the door. Arthur groaned, and pulled himself up off the sofa.

He didn't want to believe his eyes.

"Ian? What are you doing here?" Arthur's red haired half brother tutted, and took a long drag from his cigarette.

"Artie, ye shouldna be so rude ti yer big brither, should ye?" Arthur cringed at the heavy Scots accent, and the use of his horrid nickname.

"But why are you here?" Arthur grumbled, knowing Ian's intentions were never good.

"Ah wiz in the area."

"Ian, you live in Aberdeen, and you just happened to wander down to South East England?" Ian stubbed out his cigarette with a frown.

"A'right. Av met a lass in London ower the internet, an' a came doon ti meet her. A couldna nae visit ma brither, could a?" Arthur nodded, and shrugged.

"Come in, then."

The second Ian stepped into the house, he locked eyes with Francis. A smirk spread across his face.

"So, fit's happened ti at American?" He asked Arthur, who frowned.

"We broke up a couple of months ago," he mumbled. Ian nodded, his gaze never leaving Francis, who was staring back curiously.

"Am sorry ti hear at. Bit for being affa inti someb'dy, ye fairly moved on fas-"

"Francis is not my boyfriend!" Arthur snapped. Ian didn't miss the small flash of sadness in the Frenchmans face.

"Jist a pal, then?" Arthur nodded. An uncomfortable silence.

"Um, Francis, this is my half brother, Ian Richie. Ian, this is my friend, Francis Bonnefoy. He's living with me for a while." Ian nodded again, and held a hand out.

"Nice ti meet ye, Francis." If Francis hadn't understood what Ian said, like every other time the Scot had opened his mouth, it didn't matter, as he understood the gesture.

"Nice to meet you too." Ian's hands felt rough and calloused against Francis' smooth ones.

Arthur sat in his armchair, and Ian took a seat next to Francis.

"So, who's this presumably lovely young lady, who's only fault is thinking that you are a fine young gentleman?" Arthur asked Ian, who rolled his eyes.

"Her name's Rosa," Ian smiled at the thought of her. "She's an affa bonny lass; lang blon' hair, green eyes, glasses, an a right fiery personality." He paused for a moment. "It's like if you were a quine, Arthur."

"I'm disturbed that you want to date a female version of your brother," Arthur frowned. Ian gave a throaty laugh; the result of years of heavy smoking. "So, will you be staying for dinner?" Arthur asked him. Ian thought for a moment, then shrugged.

"Is lang is it's nae you cookin'," he smirked, causing Arthur's face to turn a bright shade of red.

"Francis will be cooking, actually." He retorted. Francis stood up and put his book down.

"I'll start the dinner," he announced quietly as he traipsed off to the kitchen.

"So, Artie," Ian started, his bright emerald eyes falling to meet his brothers matching ones. "Fit happened wi you an' Alfred?" Arthur sighed.

"We argued too much, and he'd had enough." Arthur explained simply. Ian nodded sympathetically.

"Ye miss him?" Arthur glared at him. "Stupid question, a suppose." The two sat in silence for a moment before Arthur sighed.

"Not as much. I think I'm over him now," he lied.

"At's good. Now, are ye gan ti tell ma i truth aboot Francis?" Arthur froze; just as Ian expected.

"What do you mean?" Ian leaned forward.

"He's nae jist a pal, is he? 'Ere's somethin' differen' aboot him, so fit is it?" The younger brother's face slowly turned a colour to rival the red of Ian's hair, before he shook his head.

"You won't believe me, it's complicated and… Bloody weird." He looked at Ian, who was smirking. "What?" He frowned. Ian rolled his eyes.

"Artie, fan we were bairns, ye believed at green rabbit wiz real. Ye believed in a' o' at fairies an' shite, an' ye probably still do. Don' ye?" Arthur looked away and shifted uncomfortably. Ian continued. "Well, a felt that ma wee nessie toy wiz real, an' a still think thit 'ere's something in Loch Ness. Noo, fitiver yev got te tell ma, al believe ye."

Arthur sighed.

"Keep it secret?" He looked up to see Ian nodding. There were another few moments of silence as Arthur tried to think of a way to tell his brother about Francis. "Well, he isn't human." There, that was a good start, judging by the bewildered look on Ian's lightly freckled face.

"He's nae? Then fit the bloody hell is he?"

"He's… a robot. An android." Arthur explained, finding it hard to believe it himself after becoming so accustomed to Francis. "You remember Kiku Honda?" Ian nodded. "Well, he works in a massive Japanese robotics research and development thing. They developed the technology for these realistic androids to have basic emotions, and form personalities. Kiku wanted me to beta test them, but never told me what it was til I got it."

Ian stared at Arthur in shock.

"Christ, I thought ye were jist embarrassed ti say ye were gan oot we a Frenchman…" He exclaimed. "So, fit are they for onyway?" He asked.

"Companionship," Arthur answered quickly. Ian knew it was more than that by his tone.

"So, they're sex dolls wi a personality?" He sniggered. Arthur glowered at him.

"Sadly, it seems so. But I have no interest in pursuing Francis in such a way." Ian sighed.  
>"Ye still like Al, don't ye?"<p>

Arthur nodded.

Francis poked his head through the door.

"Supper's ready…"

Francis' meal had been a great success, although he still couldn't understand Ian's thick dialect. Arthur had ushered them into the living room, while he prepared tea. They had sat in an awkward silence for a short while, until Ian broke it.

"You know, Francis, I can talk in proper English. I just like to see Arthur squirm; he hates my accent." Francis looked at him in surprise; Ian's accent was still there, but the words were much more understandable.

"I'm sorry, I had trouble understanding you earlier…" Francis mumbled. Ian shook his head.

"Nah, it's ok, you'll get used to it."

"I will?" Ian nodded.

"My brother likes you mare than that he lets on," he grinned cheekily, not realising his dialect was slipping through. "I think you're gan ti be here for a long time." Francis smiled at Ian, gradually managing to process the dialect.

"I hope so," he answered, feeling more comfortable around the Scot, who was watching Francis.

"Ye like ma brother?" He asked simply. Francis nodded with a wide smile. 'Definitely not human,' Ian mused. 'Not even a blush.' "Well, keep your hopes high, yer jist his type. Jist like Al," he winked. Francis' brows came together. "Al? Who's Al?" Ian's eyes widened a little.

"Naebody, Arthur will tell ye sometime." The Frenchman nodded, still looking a little troubled.

"What if he doesn't like me?" He asked. Ian gave another rough laugh and leaned towards Francis, with mischief in his gleaming eyes.

"Persist!"

Ian hadn't been gone long, and Arthur was having his last cup of tea before bed. Francis had been fidgeting since Ian left, and it was getting on Arthur's nerves.

"Francis, what's wrong with you?" he snapped. The android's cerulean eyes met Arthur's emerald ones.

"Who's Al?" Francis asked him. Arthur broke eye contact as his face gained a blush.

"No-one who matters…" Francis left it there; he could sense Arthur's pain.

London.

From behind her wire framed glasses, Rosa Oakland's jade eyes narrowed at the baking tray of blackened lumps, which had started their lives as scones.

"Where did I go wrong?" She sighed wistfully. It didn't really help that her scales used a different measurement from her cook book, or that in her haste she replaced sugar with salt, but she didn't really know that; the girl should get new glasses. She tipped the abominations in the bin when the doorbell rang. She looked at herself quickly in the mirror, seeing the flour stains all over her face and baby blue dress. Her hair was messily tied into two pigtails, and she looked rather stressed. No time to worry about that though; the visitor was impatient. She opened the door, and her jaw fell.

"Ian?" She squealed. Emerald eyes surveyed her.

"Rosa?" He smiled. She hid behind the door.

"D-don't look, I'm a mess!" She cried. He opened the door, and bent down a little so they were face to face.

"Well, if this is fan yer in a mess, I'd love ti see ye fan yer on a date wi ma inite it 8…" He smirked.


	9. The good old beach cliche

Arthur enjoyed doing many things to relax; a long bath, a night of Monty Python reruns, reliving his younger years by listening to some old Sex Pistols albums, hell, if it was in question, he'd have sex. But his favourite thing to do was curl up on his favourite armchair, with a piping hot cup of Earl Grey, and a classic of English literature. Tonight's piece was 'Pride and Prejudice', and goddamn it he was not any less of a man for thinking that Mr Darcy was a charming gentleman!

He sighed, remembering how Alfred would tease him for his enjoyment of these books.

"_Artie, why are you reading that again?" Alfred would ask him for the sole reason of being bored._

"_Because, Alfred, it is a piece of Classical literature, and there is nothing wrong with rereading a book you enjoy." That was always Arthur's answer. The whole conversation was already known to them both; they had the same one regularly._

"_But why read it again? You know how it's gonna end!" The American would pout, prompting Arthur to look up at him and roll his eyes._

"_And how often have you seen those horrid 'Die Hard' films?" And then that giant smile would replace the sulk._

"_But Artie, they're so cool!" He'd squeal. "John McClane is such a bad ass guy, y'know? I mean, he's just a cop, and he kills a _whole building of terrorists_!" Arthur would then sigh, and shake his head._

"_And thus you know the ending." He would proclaim smugly. _

_Alfred's pout would then return briefly, only for the grin to return._

"_Those books are so girly though." His grin then transformed into a smirk when Arthurs brows knitted in a frown._

"_The works of the __Brontë sisters, Austen, Shakespeare, Dickens, and all other classical writers were written for men _and _women of all ages, Alfred.__"_

"_Yeah, but look at this one! I can't even pronounce the name on the front of it!" Alfred would cry incredulously, glad to be getting the attention he wanted. "Eey… eii…"_

"_It says 'Jane Eyre' you idiot!" Arthur groaned."It isn't that difficult."_

"_Well, I bet that book doesn't even have a hero!"_

"_The male protagonist i-"_

"_The what?" Arthur groaned._

"_The 'good guy'." He would explain. He was sick of dumbing things down for Alfred. "Is Edward Rochester." Alfred would then tut._

"_That's not a heroic name," he would announce. "You know what a really heroic name is?" Arthur would shake his head, pretending he didn't know what was coming next to keep the other man, his boyfriend, happy. _

_Alfred would leap to his feet, his hands on his hips, and a wide grin spread across his sun-kissed face. "Alfred F. Jones! That's the name of a real hero!" His laugh was so happy and carefree that Arthur couldn't help but crack a smile along with him. Alfred would perch himself on the arm of the chair, his grin replaced by a loving, soft smile. "See? A real hero can make their love smile." His lids would close over his clear, blue eyes, and his face would get closer to Arthur's, who would lean up to seal their lips in a sweet kiss. Alfred's soft lips would almost caress Arthur's and a warm hand would cradle his cheek…_

Arthur felt a hand against his cheek; his own, as he wiped away a single tear. He sighed sadly, and then checked his watch. He had to pull himself together; Francis would be home any minute. He went to the kitchen, and put the kettle on. Just when the device clicked, indicating that the water had boiled, Francis came bounding through the front door with as much elegance as one can show whilst doing such a thing.

"Arthur, Mon Cher, I'm home!" Arthur had no idea where Francis had picked up this habit of calling him 'Mon Cher', but he didn't like it… Well, he did, but he wouldn't tell Francis! He was soon joined in the kitchen by the supposed Frenchman.

"Tea?" Arthur offered, stirring a cup of Oolong. Francis shook his head, but gave Arthur a curious look.

"Cher, your eyes are all red and puffy. What's wrong?" Arthur looked away from him.

"Nothing." He lied.

"Did you try cooking again?" Try cooking? Why, that rude, irritating, arrogant-

"Yes, the smoke hurt my eyes." Another lie, but it wasn't like a robot could tell, right?

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms were wrapped around his waist.

"Please tell me the truth," Francis whispered, his voice like silk. He felt the smaller man tremble slightly in his warm hold.

"I- Oh, bloody hell, I was thinking about Alfred, okay?" Arthur groaned, his voice ready to crack. Francis sighed.

"Alfred… He is the one you love, non?" A dreadful feeling washed over him when Arthur nodded. His sandy hair tickled Francis' cheek.

"I miss him…" Arthur whispered. This wasn't going in Francis' favour; Antonio had said that by now it should be safe for him to try to win Arthurs heart, but how could that happen when he loved another?

…That was it, Antonio!

"Mon Cher, I have an idea, something to take your mind from Alfred." Arthur made a small noise, urging Francis to continue. "Antonio asked if I wanted to go to the beach tomorrow with some others. Would you like to go?" Arthur considered this, gently removing Francis arms from his waist, and sipping his freshly brewed tea.

"Who else is going?" He questioned.

"Antonio and Lovino, Feliciano and his boyfriend, and Gilbert and… Gilbert is bringing someone too." Arthur nodded.

"So, Ludwig and Roderich will be there… Alright, but we have a problem." Francis tilted his head a little. "The beach has lots of water, and you're a robot." His concern was waved off.

"I'm waterproof. For maximum realism!"

Of course he was…

"Where the bloody hell is everyone?" Arthur grumbled. He was sat on a large towel with Francis, who had already insisted on stripping down to his swimming trunks. Everyone was ten minutes late, and Arthur did not react well to unpunctuality. He was putting on his fifth layer of sun cream ("It isn't being paranoid, it's being safe!") when four men started walking towards them.

"Hola!" Antonio cried with a wide grin. His white shirt was open, revealing a toned, tanned torso. Lovino was next to him, with a huge blush on his face, while Feliciano clung to a large, muscled blonde who Francis assumed was the Ludwig he has heard so much about. He too was blushing a little, while Feliciano babbled on about nothing.

"I'm sorry we're late," Ludwig apologised in a deep voice. "We were half way here when Feli realised he had forgotten his things."

"Don't call my brother by a nickname, bastard!" Lovino snapped at him. Ludwig stayed quiet, knowing better than to argue with his boyfriend's older brother.

"Is Gil not here yet?" Antonio asked, looking around for said albino.

"No," Arthur groaned. "Roderich must be driving."

Half an hour later, once all the food for the picnic had been unpacked, and Feliciano had needed Ludwig to save him from a hermit crab, Gilbert appeared, with a bespectacled man in a blue shirt, and a brunette woman with a green bikini top, and a short skirt covering her bottom half.

"Specs was driving," Gilbert announced loudly, confirming Arthurs suspicions. "He got us lost!" Arthur shook his head.

"How do you get lost for forty minutes when you live five minutes away?" He demanded.

"I apologise," Roderich said sincerely. "I brought cakes, so I hope that makes up for it."

A short while later, almost everyone was in the sea, including Arthur, Roderich and Lovino, who had been abducted by Gilbert and Antonio, and then unceremoniously dumped in the water. Only Francis and Gilbert's brunette friend, Elizaveta, were left dry for now.

"So, how long have you stayed with Arthur?" She asked him. Elizaveta was strangely interested in his non-relationship with Arthur.

"Five weeks," Francis recalled. Had it really been that long already? Elizaveta nodded.

"And you two aren't romantically involved?" She noted his hesitation, and made a sort of squealing noise. "Tell me the details!"

"Well, there aren't any…" he sighed.

"Is he still hung up on Alfie?" He nodded, and she folded her arms like a sulking child. "It could take a while then… Damnit, you two would look cute together…" She went quiet for a while.

"I'm leaving next week…" Francis lamented. Elizaveta's emerald eyes widened with horror.

"What? Why?" She shrieked.

"I have to return to France," he shrugged, keeping up the pretence that he was human. She shook her head.

"Well, mister, you are going to have Arthur before this week is up!" She stood up and dragged him to his feet. "We have no time to waste, so get up, get in that water, and have all the fun with your man as possible." She ran into the water, leaping on Roderich from behind so they both fell in.

Arthur was further from the shore, floating peacefully on his back, away from the water fight taking place with the others.

Suddenly, something grabbed his ankle, and he was pulled under the water. The harsh sea salt stung his bulging eyes as he looked around to see his assailant.

Francis?

A long fingered hand curled round the back of the Englishman's head, and pulled it closer to meet Francis' lips in a kiss.

Arthur awoke the next day, still a little shocked at what had happened. Of course Francis had liked him, but he hadn't expected that… Although, it had felt amazing… He reminded himself that Francis was a robot, damnit, and pulled on his dressing-gown before going downstairs. He wasn't here. How odd; Francis was always up first. He didn't have work today, either… Arthur went back up the stairs, and knocked on Francis' door. No answer.

"Francis?" He called. Still no answer. Beginning to panic, he opened the door. Francis was still in bed, asleep. Arthur gingerly approached him, and shook him lightly. "Francis?" There was still no response. Desperately trying to recall the manual, Arthur remembered one vital piece of information. He placed his ear to Francis' bare chest.

He couldn't hear the processor running.


	10. Save Me

No matter what Arthur tried, Francis wouldn't wake up. He slumped down onto the bed with his head in his hands, tears beginning to prickle the corners of his eyes. It had been just over a month or so that Kiku had taken Francis to Arthur's home, and from the moment he had opened his mouth, Arthur had eagerly awaited the 6 week mark, so Francis could be taken away… So why was he crying now that he was broken?

He raised his head to look at the android. The annoying accent was gone, at least, but Arthur could feel his heart yearning for his smile, his blue eyes, his laugh… for him. There had to be something he could do.

Arthur rummaged through a cabinet until he found the paperwork that had come with Francis. He dashed back to the robots bedroom, and flicked to the FAQ section of the user manual.

"'_Does your product emit a strange burning odour, or a black smoke?' _I should bloody well hope not," Arthur muttered. "'_Is your product behaving in a hostile manner towards you, another human, or another product?_' Mental note; do _not, _under any circumstance, annoy or upset Francis." He skimmed the rest of the section, finding questions ranging from stupid, to extremely worrying, until he found what he was looking for.

'_If your product fails to awaken from standby (sleep) mode, please contact technical support as soon as possible. If the product has been inactive for 12 or more hours, contact customer services. _' Surely, 12 hours hadn't passed yet, so Arthur grabbed his phone and hammered in the number for the UK technical support.

Half an hour later, his call was very important to them, his call had gone from 84th in the line to 87th, and the hold music was promising that it was never gonna give him up. Arthur cancelled the call, and speed dialled another number; it paid to have contacts within a compa- Okay, it was a little useless having contacts when their mobile went straight to voicemail. Arthur listened to Kikus message in Japanese, before another message played in English. He quickly noted down Kiku's work contact number ("for emergencies only", Arthur felt this was indeed an emergency.) and called.

The phone was answered by a woman, who spoke to him in rapid Japanese. "Hello? I'd like to speak to Ki- Honda Kiku-san," he told her, remembering Japanese name order and honorifics at the last minute, and praying she spoke English.

"Honda-san?" She repeated. "In the Technological Developments Department?"

"Yes," Arthur smiled, happy he was making progress at last. The receptionist put him through to Kiku's secretary. "Great," Arthur grumbled. "More bloody hold music…"

Kiku must have been a busy man, because 10 minutes later, Arthur was still on hold. Slowly, and hesitantly, Arthur slipped his hand into Francis', intertwining their fingers. Their hands fit together so well, like pieces in a puzzle. There was a slight warmth to the android… There was still hope.

"Japanese music is bloody awful," Arthur growled to himself. It had started raining a short while ago, and the heavy droplets battering the windows was making him even more agitated and Francis hadn't woke up yet and what was Kiku doing that was so important and why in the name of all that is holy would anyone listen to this drivel? Every phone line which needs to put people on hold should have the entire Queen discography.

Francis was still asleep. Without really knowing why, Arthur put the phone on speaker, letting the slow song ring out through the room, and lay next to him. The waves of blond hair lay on the pillow, circling his head like a halo in an archaic, religious painting. His long, pale eyelashes, his slightly parted lips… He looked peaceful. Arthur reached out slowly, and gently brushed his thumb along Francis' cheek, smiling at how soft he felt.

Arthur didn't notice he was leaning closer until his thin lips were pressed to Francis' ones, and his lids had slid over his mossy green eyes. He couldn't help himself; he was so beautiful, so enchanting, but how could Arthur admit that? He had to kiss him, like he'd wanted to for so long, and he had to do it now, so Francis wouldn't know. The stubble tickled his face slightly as he tilted his head to get a better angle.

His eyes sprung open as Francis' lips moved against his, and a long fingered hand ran through his hair.

He pulled back, gasping when azure, half-lidded eyes smiled at him. "F-Francis?" He spluttered.

"You saved me, cher," Francis said happily. "And judging by your expression, you didn't know that what you were doing would save me…" He grabbed Arthur by the waist, and pulled him on top, chuckling as Arthur yelped. "So, you kissed me by your own free will, non?" Arthurs blush grew and grew, and he looked away.

"Y-you need to shave," he grumbled. Francis laughed.

"Why, cher? Do you intend on kissing me more often?" That blush… It had to be the one Elizaveta had spoken about.

"N-no!" Arthur snapped back, mortified – and ever so slightly turned on – that he was essentially straddling a robot. "Are you… Are you feeling better?" He mumbled.

"Oui, merci," Francis smiled, noticing an ever so slight twitch of Arthur's eye whenever he spoke French. "Mais, peux j'avoir un verre de l'eau s'il vous plait? I think I swallowed some seawater." Arthur nodded. He got off the bed, cancelled the phone call to Kiku, and went to get some water for Francis before he malfunctioned again.


	11. It's okey Part 1

"He kissed me!" Francis exclaimed. "On the lips! And it was his choice, he made the first move!" Gilbert clapped him on the back with a smirk before leaning back in his chair. The two of them were with Antonio, spending the day together in Gilbert's house, which was surprisingly clean; after all, as Gilbert had told them, Roderich would climb inside his piano and cry if there was a single germ in the house.

"I knew you could do it," Antonio cheered. "So, what's gonna happen now?"

"Obvious, isn't it?" Gilbert scoffed, sipping his beer. "They're gonna get together, right Francis?" The Frenchman smirked.

"I intend to ask him to be mon petit ami tonight…"

Arthur slammed the lid of his laptop shut, burying his head in his hands. The novel was going nowhere, there was no direction. The clearly drawn map had been disregarded, and the protagonist had gone off on their own, losing the flow of the story. Arthur was conflicted; his muse was lost in love… He trudged off to the kitchen; a cup of Darjeeling was sure to clear his mind.

Sipping the hot liquid with a satisfied sigh, he returned to the living room as he heard a quick, almost melodic rap on the door. His thick eyebrows knitted together at the sound of the all too familiar knock. It couldn't be. He opened the door. The sharp shatter of porcelain resonated through the thick silence. It was.

"A-Alfred?" Arthur spluttered, staring up at the man with wide eyes.

Alfred gave a sheepish smile, shuffling his feet very uncharacteristically. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and uneasily cleared his throat.

"Hey, Arti- Arthur… How's it going?" The Englishman scoffed, folding his arms as he lamented the loss of his favourite mug, and a bloody good brew.

"Alfred, I hardly think you travelled half way across the country to ask me how it's going," he grumbled, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. Alfred shrugged, grinning a little.

"You got me. Mind if I come in?" He asked. Arthur sighed, stepping aside for him.

"Alright. Be careful of the shards of cup."

Arthur quickly disposed of the cup and cleared up the mess which had been his tea.

"Well, I'm making more tea," he announced, looking at Alfred who had already made himself at home on the sofa. "Would you like anything?" Alfred's lightly tanned face – it had always puzzled Arthur how the man kept his golden glow, even in the harsh British weather – scrunched up at the thought of tea, but he quickly shot Arthur a dazzling smile. "Got any coffee?" He grinned. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I always keep some around, just in case." Just in case you came back, he added mentally, as he went to make their respective drinks.

He was stirring his tea when he called through to Alfred. "Do you still take your coffee the same?" He cringed inwardly at the American's choice drink of coffee with no milk and ten teaspoons of sugar.

"Yeah," Alfred replied softly, his voice much closer than Arthur expected. The older man looked over his shoulder, seeing his former boyfriend staring back from the kitchen door. Feeling a deep blush rising to his cheeks, Arthur quickly looked back to the cups, handing Alfred his coffee once all the sugar had been mixed in.

"S-so… What brings you here?" Arthur asked, looking at his tea. He didn't see the nervousness on Alfred's face.

"I'm… I'm going home." He said simply, causing Arthur to snap his head up. "Back to the states. I get to study abroad for the last year of my degree, so I'm going to New York." Arthur nodded slowly. He'd forgotten that Alfred had never intended to stay in Britain. "You remember what we said, don't you?" Alfred asked quietly.

"Al…" Arthur gasped. "I… Things have changed, I-"

"No, Artie, please," the younger begged, grabbing Arthur's hand in his own. "I made a mistake. I love you. Please. Be mine again, and come to New York with me."

Arthur lost a second cup.


	12. It's okey Part 2

"G-go back with you?" Arthur cried incredulously. It had been almost 3 months since Alfred had left, saying he'd had enough, and now, here he was, pleading with Arthur to not only be with him again, but to go to a whole new continent with him. "Al… I think it's been too l-"

"No!" Alfred interrupted, squeezing Arthur's hand. "Don't say it's been too long… I was stupid to let you go, it was the biggest mistake of my life. " The American released the others hand, and put down his coffee before wrapping his arms around his waist, and buried his head in the crook of his neck, inhaling the distinct, perfumed scent of Earl Grey that seemed to cling to Arthur. "I missed you, babe." A slow, trembling sigh left Arthur's lips as he too laced his arms around Alfred, resting his head on his strong shoulder.

"I missed you too, love."

Alfred's lips moved into a small, crooked smile, and Arthur shivered as they softly brushed against his bare neck as he spoke, the southern drawl he had pick up from his father seeping into his voice.

"C'mon. Let's clean up the tea and get you some more." Was Alfred purposefully putting his accent on? He knew that it made Arthur weak at the knees…

Grudgingly, Alfred pulled away from Arthur, smiling inwardly when he felt Arthur's hands were reluctant to leave him too. He picked up the shards of the cup, before soaking up the tea with a kitchen towel. Arthur watched with dull eyes as Alfred made tea, like he used to. The American could make the best coffee in the world, but when it came to tea, his skills were somewhat lacking, and although the tea was never perfect, there was something about the way he made it that made Arthur love it.

Arthur murmured a soft thanks when Alfred handed him the cup, taking a long, slow, satisfying sip. He cracked an eye open, meeting Alfred's anxious gaze.

"You've been practicing," he accused. Alfred flashed a lop-sided grin.

"Yeah, you got me," he chuckled. "I missed you, and I really wanted to come back much sooner, but with my exams, I couldn't so I figured I'd try drinking tea like you have it, just to remind myself of you." Arthur's cheeks dusted pink at the sweet gesture.

"So, you like tea now?" He asked with a small smile. Alfred shook his head violently.

"Nah, still tastes like shit," he laughed, gasping dramatically when Arthur playfully punched him in the arm.

"Idiot," he chuckled quietly, taking another thoughtful sip of tea.

A silence fell between the two men, but it wasn't an uncomfortable one. No, silence was a treasured thing, when they were together, for silence meant no snide comments from Arthur, no senseless rambling from Alfred, it meant peace.

They soon found themselves on the sofa, casually chatting about the past 3 months.

"And how is Matthew doing?" Arthur asked. He lost contact with Alfred's twin brother after they split up. Another regret.

"Who?" Alfred asked, frowning in confusion. "Another one of your imaginary friends?"

"No, you moron!" Arthur cried. "Matthew. Mattie. Your bloody twin!" Arthur couldn't help but smile as Alfred put on his 'thinking face'. It was a rare occasion, and Arthur wondered if Alfred could hear himself thing over the grating sound of the rusted gears beginning to grind together.

"Oh, Mattie!" Alfred grinned. "He's doing great! He's at NYU, so, I'll be going to university with him now! He, er… He offered to let me stay with him, but…" His fingers once again intertwined with Arthurs, as he gazed into the mossy green eyes that he adored so much. "I think I'd rather get a place with you."

Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Alfred, I-"

"But, you're already over me, huh?" Arthur looked up, his first love's sky blue eyes were pained, but the smile was still pinned onto his face. "The cake in the kitchen. It was freshly baked, you could smell it." His smile grew. "So, either you've learned to cook, or someone made it…" Arthur nodded.

"Second one," he confirmed. It almost broke his heart to see the look of devastation sweep across Alfred's face.

"So… I suppose I'm not surprised, really," Alfred smiled weakly, shrugging. "You're so amazing, anyone would be stupid to pass up an opportunity to be with you…" Arthur blushed darkly, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Alfred had been everything he has ever wanted… and now, that man thought he was with someone else.

"Al, I-"

"So, tell me about him," the American interrupted, running a hand through his hair casually. Arthur was about to argue back, but quickly decided against it.

"His… name is Francis," he started. Though Arthur would say he was lying, Alfred saw the small smile appear when he said the man's name. "He, erm… he's Kiku's friend, again," he lied. "We've known each other for a while, and he needed a place to stay for a while… It just developed from there, I guess." He looked back to Alfred's forced smile. "But, I'm not with him. I'm single."

Hope flooded the American's eyes once more.

"Y-you are?" He asked incredulously. "So… What do you think? Do you want to get back together? I mean, you don't have to move with me right away, cause it'd be pretty awkward if you moved to America and we broke up, but we won't break up again, cause I love you, but we could go for long distance, and-"

"Alfred." It was Arthur's turn to interrupt. His hands cupped Alfred's cheeks. "I love you. I do… but I can't do this. Not again. We broke up for a reason, and it'll all descend into fighting again…" Alfred nodded slowly.

"I was afraid you'd say that… You like him, huh?" Alfred frowned when Arthur wrinkled his nose. "Stop lying about your real feelings!" He snapped at the Brit. "You say I'm an idiot, but you're too damn proud to admit you like someone. You did it with me, and you're doing it with Francis. You're hurting him, as well as yourself." Arthur was stunned. Alfred had never been so blunt, nor had he ever shown an ounce of wisdom.

"…I like him," Arthur admitted. "A lot; he's perfect for me..." Alfred didn't look upset anymore. His smile was genuine.

"Tell him, mkay?" Alfred ordered more than asking. "Don't let him slip away, or I'll be really mad." The men smiled softly at each other, as Arthur nodded. "Can I, uh, have one thing before I go?"

"Anything," Arthur smiled, grateful for the advice, and the chance to see Alfred before he left.

Before Arthur knew it, Alfred had leaned forward, pressing their lips together. After the initial shock, Arthur returned the kiss, their lips moving against each other in sync. It was so familiar, so much different from Francis. Arthur's hand moved to Alfred's neck, stroking it softly with his thumb, smiling against his lips as the American quietly mewled into the kiss. The pulse beneath Arthur's hand sped up. Francis didn't have one of those… He felt Alfred's hand exploring his chest, taking in every small dip and curve, touching just the right places. Francis didn't know them… But if Arthur didn't care about Francis, he wouldn't be thinking of him while kissing another man… Alfred…

The front door opened. They broke apart, their heads snapping to the figure in the door way.

"Hey," Alfred smiled. "You must be Francis?"

"Oui…" He confirmed quietly, his eyes locked on Arthur. "Alfred, I presume?" The American nodded his head, not sensing the stifling awkwardness.

"That's me! Artie told you about me, huh? I didn't know he liked French guys…" Francis' jaw clenched.

"Oui, he's mentioned you. Et I believe he prefers Americans…" Francis went upstairs without another word.

"He ain't too friendly, huh?" Alfred pouted. Arthur sighed, his head in his hands.

"He is usually… But after seeing that, I doubt he will be…"


	13. Goodbye

The next morning, Arthur was gone. His bed was empty, and his shoes weren't at the front door. Francis sat at the kitchen table in silence, not hearing the short ringing noise. Last night had been awful.

A short while after Francis had seen them… kissing, there had been a quiet knock at his bedroom door.

"It's me," Arthur's timid voice called. "May I come in?" Francis couldn't reply. He couldn't bring himself to speak. He envied all other machines in the household, for none of them were sentient, and thus couldn't feel the sheer agony of seeing the man you loved kissing another person. Francis had been made for Arthur to love, and cherish, and trust… He had failed. The toaster never failed to make toast, the fridge never failed to keep food cold and fresh, the fire alarm never failed to warn other's of Arthur's cooking; he was the most advanced, yet most useless piece of technology in the house.

"I won't invade your privacy," Arthur said softly. "I just wanted to let you know that Alfred has gone. He won't be coming back." The house fell silent.

He hadn't eaten breakfast yet, his appetite was gone. Ring. What was he supposed to do? His only purpose on this Earth, the sole reason he had been created, was to make Arthur happy, but after last night, it seemed that Arthur was happy with Alfred. But, why wasn't Alfred coming back? Was it because of how upset Francis had been? That was wrong. Francis loved Arthur, he shouldn't stand in the way of his happiness…

He had to leave. For Arthur.

Ring.

He wasn't sure how to go about it, though. There was nowhere he could run away to; he wasn't a real citizen. He couldn't stay with his friends; that would make him a burden on their lives, like he was to Arthur. He could shut himself down, but he didn't actually know how to, and he didn't know where the manuals were kept.

Ring. This time, he heard the doorbell. He stood up, curiously answering the door.

"Hello, Francis-san," the small, Asian man greeted with a bow. "Is Arthur-kun at home?" Francis frowned a little, not sure who this man was, and why he was making strange noises after saying names. He assumed it was like Feliciano, when he said "ve".

"Arthur isn't in right now… Can I help?" He asked politely.

"You don't remember me, Francis-san?" the mysterious guest asked. Francis tilted his head slightly.

"I think… Are you the one who brought me here?" Francis asked, the guest nodding.

"Hai, I am Honda Kiku, Arthur's friend. May I come in?" Francis stepped to the side to let Kiku in. He closed the door, watching as Kiku took off his shoes at the door. "You know why I'm here, I presume?" Francis shook his head, honestly having no idea why Kiku had come. "Well, unless there are objections, I've come to take you away."

"Take me away?" Francis repeated. He'd been asking for this, just moments ago, but why was he reluctant now that the chance had been offered to him? Kiku nodded.

"Yes, the six weeks are over. I can take you back to Japan, fix the faults, and then return you to Arthur, and you'll finally be perfect for him," the small man smiled. "That's what you want, isn't it?" Arthur's perfect match? It sounded wonderful…

"Non," he whispered wistfully. "Arthur has something better than me. Alfred came back." He smiled weakly at Kiku. "Either destroy me, or make me perfect for someone else. Wipe my memory of Arthur." This was the only way… Kiku sighed, nodding slowly.

"This is what Arthur-kun wants?" He asked. Francis nodded. "Shall we wait to say goodbye?" Francis shook his head. The pain of the last goodbye would be overwhelming. "Then, are you ready to go?"

"Oui."

Before the word had left his mouth, Arthur walked through the front door, looking at Francis and Kiku with some bewilderment.

"H-hello, Kiku, Francis," he said slowly. "What, erm…?" Kiku bowed.

"Gomenasai, Arthur-kun," he apologised. "I'm sorry for the surprise, but the six weeks are over. I came to take Francis away to repair him, but he informed me of the circumstances, and his wishes."

"Wishes?" Arthur asked, not understanding.

"Yes. As you and Alfred are together again, he sees no need to return, and will be modified to suit another beta tester. I thank you for your participation in the testing process, but I must be going." He smiled sadly, turning to leave. Francis hadn't looked at Arthur since he arrived, and the Asian and the android were now walking down the garden path, leaving Arthur in the door way.

"W-wait!" Arthur cried. "C-can't I say goodbye?" Francis froze, looking over his shoulder at the Englishman. He turned, slowly walking back to the house, and to the man he loved. Kiku sat in his rental car, waiting.

"I hope you're happy with him," Francis said softly, genuinely meaning it. "I only want you to be happy." Arthur bit his cheek.

"I am happy," he told him, his voice cracking a little. Francis nodded, and turned his back, going to the car.

A hand grabbed his wrist. "I'm happy that I rejected Alfred last night. I'm upset that you misinterpreted the goodbye kiss. I'm happy with you." Francis slowly turned to face Arthur.

"But… You two looked so happy. You deserve more than an imperfect robot."

"You think Alfred is perfect?" Arthur scoffed. "He's far from it, and so are you, but who the hell wants perfection? Love needs conflict, tension, laughter and passion. You give me all those things. I love you, Francis." Arthur cupped Francis' cheeks in either hand, and kissed him passionately. "I love you," he repeated, burying his face in Francis' shoulder, wrapping his arms around the silicon filled, no, lean muscled body. "Please, don't leave."

Francis swallowed, slowly wrapping his arms around Arthur's waist. "Je t'aime aussi, Arthur," he smiled, feeling elated. "I'll only leave if you want me to."

"Don't go," Arthur whispered.

"I won't. I'll never go."

Francis no longer envied the other machines in the household, for none of them were sentient, and thus couldn't feel the love and adoration he felt for Arthur Kirkland.


	14. Epilogue

A few months later, one evening after supper, Arthur was sat on the bed that he and Francis now shared, watching anxiously as the printer laboriously churned out page after page of text, the whirring sounding ominously like the chainsaw that had cut the trees for the ream of paper. He took a moment to lament the loss of a patch of rainforest; publishers should really accept electronic manuscripts, not just paper ones…

The printer then fell quiet, and a quick glance at his laptop confirmed that all the pages had been successfully printed on double sided paper – he wasn't so wasteful to only use one side. He gathered the ream, making sure the pages were in the correct order.

His labours were complete. His latest novel was completed, proofread, and printed. All he had to do was take it to the publisher. He'd do that tomorrow though; all he wanted to do right now was relax with Francis. Of course… Francis.

Arthur descended the staircase, manuscript in hand. From his place on the sofa, Francis smiled warmly at Arthur. "What's that?" He asked, nodding his head towards the manuscript.

"My novel," Arthur answered quietly, holding it out to him. "I want you to read it before anyone else does." His boyfriend, as Arthur had come to think of him as, gazed at the thick pile of paper in awe, before taking it gently, as if it were something to be treasured; an ancient tome rather than a freshly printed romance.

"Thank you," he said sincerely as his eyes locked with the first page.

It took only a few days for Francis to complete the book, and it would have taken even less time if he didn't have to work. Once he had read the final line of the final page, he turned the manuscript so that the title page was facing upwards, and he stared at it for a short while, as he always did once he had read one of Arthur's books. Arthur didn't know, nor would he ever know, that Francis was staring at the author's name.

"It is your greatest work yet," he declared. "Beautiful, heart warming, tear jerking… Everything a good story should be, non?" Arthur blushed, looking down at his slippers.

"D-don't speak French while you review my books," he mumbled sheepishly, only causing Francis to develop a wolfish smirk on his face, and place the manuscript down.

"Mais, mon ami," he purred into Arthur's ear, pulling the spluttering Brit onto his lap. "You know you love it… Et, I know you love it, cher." His smile grew as Arthur squirmed, despising the fact that Francis knew he was a secret Francophile. "This book, it was written about us, non?" Arthur glared at him.

"Of course not! Why would it be?" The blush that Francis loved so much was powdering his cheeks lightly, and said Frenchman nuzzled into his neck.

"The story is about a young woman, still in love with her ex-boyfriend, when her friend introduces her to someone he knows who is perfect for her, but he has one tiny flaw. Oui?" Arthur closed his eyes at the emphasised French. "She likes him, a little, and he likes her a lot. She hides her feelings, but they flourish and bloom. Mais, just as her friend gathers the courage to ask her to be his, her old love returns, asking for her to run away with him. She refuses, but her new found love thinks he has lost her." Francis' voice had gotten quieter, his tone more serious. "He prepares to leave, but before he can, she confesses her love to him. Overjoyed, they stay together, and he asks her to be his girlfriend the next day. It sounds familiar, non?" He purred softly, nuzzling Arthur's neck as his arms laced around his waist.

Arthur nodded slowly.

"Fine… It's about us," he admitted, hiding his blush in Francis' shoulder.

"I am glad," Francis smiled. "Glad you included me in one of your beautiful works of art."

They sat together, holding each other like that for a while before Arthur rose his head, biting his lip.

"I've been thinking about something… About us," he murmured. "You cannot age…"

"Correct," Francis replied softly. He knew where this was going…

"I'm twenty-five, and I'm not getting younger." Through thick lashes his green eyes peered up to meet Francis' blue ones. "What will happen when you are still young and beautiful, and I am old? And then, when I am, well… dead?" They were both silent. The thought of life without Arthur was too much to bear…

"Typically, once the owner has no further use for the android, our memory will be wiped, and we'll be remade to fit someone else. Recycled." Arthur gazed into his eyes, tucking a lock of golden blond hair behind his ear.

"Will that happen to you?" He asked.

"Oui. There is a glitch in the programming, however, and it is possible to back up our memories. I've exploited the glitch already, so I'll never forget the time I've spent with you."

"That's… I…" Arthur stammered, not finding the words to express how wonderful Francis made him feel. "Then, what about when I am old, and I've lost the supposed beauty you're always harping on about?" Francis chuckled, pulling Arthur closer, if that was at all possible.

"Cher. You will always be the most beautiful thing in this world to me. No-one could ever match you, no matter what happens, I will always love and cherish you." Smiling sheepishly, Arthur hugged Francis tightly, closing his eyes when his embrace was returned.

"I love you, Francis."

"I love you too, Arthur… It is such a shame about your cooking."

"Bloody frog!"

((A/N: okay, _now_ it's finished! So many of you were asking for an epilogue, so here it is. There will be no more chapters for this story, but if you liked it, keep an eye out for my next fic, which is part of the same series as this one, but follows Prussia, Austria and Hungary's story. Thanks to everyone who read this, and I hope the epilogue was up to standard 3))


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